


Not to be Desired

by FabulousDarling



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Drabble, F/M, a bit angst in parts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-02-27 18:02:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2702153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulousDarling/pseuds/FabulousDarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've fallen in love with someone, whom I absolutely loathe.<br/>The doctor just can't get enough of Missy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Because I just couldn't get this out of my head, I have no idea where I was going with this, shall i leave it as a one shot? Let me know what you think  
>  **unbetaed!**

There had always been something so grotesquely alluring to the doctor about succumbing to that which would ultimately destroy him. This was one of them.

The pit of the doctor’s stomach was burning, aching for an addiction he should have never begun to feed. Perfectly manicured nails dug into soft flesh and he arched his back, his mind growing hazy as he sought oblivion, needing to forget, even for a moment, how damaging this had all become. The woman on top of him possessed something she should have never been able to get within reach of, and now that he had touched it, he felt himself falling further into the madness that this old friend had brought to him.

He tangled his fingers in a mess of brown hair, encouraging the woman on top of him to move her hand lower, a breathless plea on the tip of his tongue that his dignity would never allow him to voice. Even if he had though, it probably would have been ignored, as Missy was far too headstrong to ever be a true subordinate.

“Stop being so damn impatient.”

Missy’s fingers wrapped around the Doctor’s wrists before she pushed down with all her strength, effectively pinning him to the bed. There was a struggle of course, there always was, but like all the other times before this one it was brief; Missy was built better for this kind of dominance and it infuriated the doctor to no end. Even in bed they could never agree with one another, and once again, the doctor found himself asking why he even bothered in the first place. Self-torture, perhaps; he did seem to be uncannily good at it.

“Either fuck me or get out,” The Doctor snapped, humiliated to find he couldn't move an inch beneath Missy’s weight. “I don’t have time for games.”

She scoffed in infuriated disbelief, looking down at the giant mistake they both insisted on making week after week. “God, do you ever shut up?” she asked, her grip tightening on the doctor’s wrists as she dug her fingernails into his flesh. The pain bordered on pleasure and the doctor squirmed beneath her, conflicted by the vast difference in sensations. It was that feeling that he found he desired the most. 

The doctor’s retort beginning to slip past his lips, but as quick as it came it was gone, devoured by Missy’s tongue as she silenced him in the only way she knew how.

Their lovemaking was always tinged with violence, as it was the only truth they allowed themselves to see as they made their bed of lies. Missy never hesitated in marking him, a feeble attempt to mask her own shame of being owned. But it was the doctor who left scratches on her skin and bruises on her arms, his own desperate reminder that he hated the woman on top of him as he shamefully begged for Missy to make him come undone. They were such a disaster, the two of them together, and yet they devoured the pain they gave each other like a drug as they slipped a little further towards the edge.

The doctor felt himself slick with sweat and as he took a moment to find his breath, he leaned against the pillows. His heart was racing, every inch of his skin tingling with the aftermath of pleasure, and yet he felt sick to his stomach as he watched Missy pick herself up off the bed. The air around them began to grow thick as the reality of their situation was brought to light once more, and when Missy looked at him, the doctor felt like ripping his hearts from his chest just to save himself the misery of feeling this way again, because it was hard to rid himself of a feeling he couldn't even begin to name.

“I think you should leave now,” he said, his voice loud enough to mask the weakness he felt inside.

Missy merely laughed, “oh dear, don’t be such a bore, I thought we’re just getting started.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, she bent down to peck his cheek. ”Let me stay? I promise I’ll stay out of trouble.” she pleaded, fluttering her eyelashes.


	2. Make it up to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm being overwhelmed by the person I'm most terrified of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long

There’s a weight in his stomach that wasn't there before; like a stone sinking to the depths of the ocean, its decent is heavy and slow, and the doctor agonizes over the nature of its arrival. It is new, unpleasant and uncomfortable, and there’s little sense to its purpose. He should feel satisfied; filled and sated in every meaning of the word, and yet his stomach twists in uncomfortable knots as though he had chugged a bottle of stale ale from the slums of Antiva. It makes him wonder what has changed, and for a brief moment before he outright dismisses it, he is horrified to realize that it may be her.

Instead, the doctor blames anything but that, but mostly her. Her, with her crooked smile and inappropriately placed humor. Her, who’s eyes so resemble the bluest oceans; rich and beautiful and captivatingly distracting. Distracting, yes, that is what she is, so much that the doctor sometimes forgets himself, forgets who and what she is; a bird with wings over the expanse of the horizon, and not a tree with roots planted in dampened soil.

A night of sex and debauchery, a night like any other where he and Missy stink of sweat and pleasure, where they press bruises against each other’s skin and whisper filthy promises that are soon to be carried out in spades. Afterwards, lips find the back of his neck, and Missy breathes out words that feel feather light, yet bring a hidden weight that the doctor hadn't known was there until it presses firmly into his chest, constricting his air and bringing spots to his vision.

He makes promises, promises he’d soon regret, but in the heat of the moment, when he can pretend that everything’s not what it is, those promises seem harmless.

Now he’s stuck with her, her aggravating self, and he enjoys it. God knows he would never admit that out loud.

"So where to next dear?" Missy Chimed. Floating around the Tardis as if she belonged there.

“I’m dropping you off somewhere. Anywhere.” He muttered.

"Now dear, let’s turn that frown upside down. I can think of better things we could be doing than standing around complaining all day." She giggled and turned away. Messing with something on the console.

—————

He does everything in his power to get her to leave but she just keeps finding her way back into his bed, his life.   
It isn’t until she decides to leave that he finally admits that he enjoyed it, enjoyed her company. Her innuendos that come at the wrong time and place.   
He woke up one morning and she wasn’t at her usual spot spalled next to him on the bed. She wasn’t in the console room messing with the Tardis.   
He calls for her, but she doesn’t answer. She’s left him. He should of expected it, they always leave, but he thought she might’ve been different.

He spends his days travelling, finding new things. Anything to forget about the pain his hearts feels. He won’t admit what the emotion that’s been tugging on his heart is.

He shuts her out. It’s the only way he can cope. Pretend that she never came back into his life, but of course it’s never that easy.

He’s in the middle of helping out a new species when he spots her. She’s standing there in all her Mary Poppins gear. She saunters over to him, his deer in headlights look makes her smirk.  
They soon find themselves back into their usual position.

"Mmm, I like those." He places his strong arms around her middle, tugging her back against him firmly, her back to his chest. He slide His fingers down to the waistband of her panties, fingering the soft red lace teasingly as he rocked his pelvis against her backside. He lets his calloused finger tips leave a trail of goosebumps on her soft, pale skin, leaving a torturous trail of fire that made them both itch for more. He was radiating warmth and she allowed her head to fall back against his shoulder, turning it to nuzzle into his neck. 

“You should, I picked them especially for you.”  She turned to face him, a playful smirk tugging at her mouth before leaning forward to place a series of haphazard kisses from jawline to chest. She pushed against the unbuttoned fabric of his shirt, exposing more skin to the mercy of her lips.  
One hand still tracing the edge of the lacy lingerie, he raised the other to caress a breast clad in matching fabric, thumb just barely grazing over a hardened nipple. She let out a purr of encouragement, a soft puff of air ghosting against his collarbone as she pushed forward into his palm.  

He kissed the hollow of her throat as her head fell back once more, nibbling his way up the graceful curve of her neck before capturing her lips with his. Her hands slid up his back to weave their pattern up his neck and through his hair, giving a slight tug that caused him to buck against her gently, a low growl vibrating in his chest.    
“And as much as I like them on you, I can think of a better place for them.” “Oh? And where would that be, Mr. President?”  
 “Let me show you.”   
Her bra was on the floor a second later, her panties following soon after, and as his lips mapped their way across her body, she had to agree that he had indeed found a better place for them.

Sweat dropped off of them both, a sedated sigh leaves their lips.

"You always find your way back here" he sighed.

"I won’t leave again."   
He smirks at her for knowing exactly what he meant. The unspoken word left in the air. She knows how he feels. He just showed her. Maybe one day he’ll be able to say it.


End file.
